Chapter 8

When I wake in my bed, my sheets are wet with sweat and blood. A sharp pain in my side radiates through the rest of my body. Moving is torture. Will this be the injury that’ll end my life?

Even in my agony, the slight tug at my throat when I lift my head becomes more concerning. Reaching up, I feel a smooth strip of silk and pull it from around my neck. Examining the familiar fabric in the morning light, a frightening realization bears down on me. A royal blue necktie. Not possible.

The cloth used to blind me, pulling me to the ground to be impaled. Someone was in my room last night, interfering with my dreams, helping the monster. That’s what Rick saw, the person in my room.

Rick!

Hopefully, he made it out all right and didn’t have a heart attack while falling toward the water. If he’s safe, he’ll be waiting for my call. Thankfully, I had the forethought to program his number into my cell before leaving for the gallery with Sarah. Pressing speed dial, he picks up on the first ring.

“Jaime?”

“You’re okay.”

“Give me your address. I’m coming over.” He must hear the pain in my voice. “Make sure the door’s unlocked. I’m on my way.”

I’m unsure if I can roll out of bed, let alone make it to the door to unlock it. As excruciating as this is, I’m ultimately able to slide to the floor and crawl across the room, each movement sending shocks of pain from torn nerves, like lightning flashing through me. As soon as the door is unlocked, my mind grows hazy. I can’t feel my side anymore, nor my body, as everything in front of me goes black.

As I slip into early REM sleep, I feel I’m being lifted and carried through the air. The movement causes fresh pain that forces me awake. My eyes barely open to see the curve of a man’s broad shoulder covered in a clean, white t-shirt. Instinctually, I nestle my face into his strong arm. I’m reminded of the night I fell asleep in front of the fireplace downstairs and father lifted me in his arms and carried me upstairs to my bedroom. I was eight years old and life hadn’t become so complicated, yet. The memory brings me comfort and a moment of solace.

After laying me on the bed, he lifts my soaked shirt. “Oh, my God.” The voice is Rick’s, not father’s and I’m instantly brought back to the present where life is cruel and people kill for pleasure.

“Leave Him out of it,” I barely choke out. “He didn’t do this to me.” My voice is so weak and hoarse I barely recognize it myself.

“Well, He didn’t do anything to stop it. If I believed in Him, He and I would have a serious discussion about this.”

“I don’t believe in Him, Rick,” I whisper and he smiles knowingly. “I know Him.”

At my revelation, he stares back at me oddly. I doubt he trusts I’m in control of my faculties. Perhaps he thinks I’m a bit off.

“He sent me here, remember?”

Rick grins and nods as if placating a child, as if he’s patronizing me again.

“I sometimes forget. When those like you are sent here, those who are not designated dark angels, you don’t remember. But we do. Remember.” I swallow and draw a deep breath as he uses alcohol swabs to clean my wound.

“This looks bad. What’d they beat you with this time? A pole?” He shakes his head.

“You were there. What did you see? I was blinded.” As he separates the skin to see how deep the wound goes, I can’t help but gasp.

“I don’t…remember…before you shoved me in there were two people, larger than you. One behind you with a strip of cloth.”

“Like this?” I reach for the necktie.

“That’s it. But how? You said weapons used in dreams are left there.”

Closing my eyes to control the pain, I can just shake my head. My mouth is dry and my lips feel cracked. Although I’m craving water, I know my stomach is too weak to hold it. After a deep, shuddered breath I try again.

“What was the other one doing?”

“They were holding something in their hands, something long. I couldn’t make out what it was. Almost looked like a…shower curtain rod. Does that sound ridiculous?”

No. That’s impossible. The shock of what he’d said turns me mute and I slowly shake my head. My mind is reeling at the idea. The one who killed my father, died in my bathroom, pierced through the heart by my shower curtain rod. There were only two people who knew. One of us is dead.

“What was He like?” Rick breaks into my thoughts.

“Who?” I’m startled, thinking he may have been reading my mind.

“God.” He looks me in the eyes, appearing as if I’m about to tell him something epic. “What was He like when you were up there?” He points to the ceiling.

Relieved. “Oh.”

Thankful he brought up a topic to take my mind off a killer who should be dead, I search my mind for an explanation he’ll interpret correctly. I’m unsure what to say, but decide to answer him simply. “Just.”

He seems confused. “I don’t understand. How could He be ‘just’ sending someone here to endure this at the hands of beasts?” He gestures toward my torso.

“I chose to come here. I knew what I’d be doing before I agreed.”

“Still doesn’t sound fair to me.”

“The situation is as fair as it can get. Wouldn’t you jump into raging rapids to save a drowning child?”

He hesitated, possibly considering my response before answering defiantly. “Yes, I would jump into raging rapids to save a child, but I wouldn’t throw another person in for me.”

“He didn’t throw me in, I volunteered. God tries to keep humanity from destroying itself. He gave me the opportunity to help. You know, He didn’t just send one to save you.”

His brows pinch together in confusion and he shakes his head.

“Jesus. Most people think God only sent Him and then forgot about them. Jesus was the greatest God sent, but not the last. Still, seems like no matter how many God sends, humanity is determined to rebel, determined to self-destruct. When I think about what Jesus endured to save you—save me too, I guess… This is nothing considering what He went through.” The memory of his suffering causes me to cringe. “Painful to imagine. I’ve never known that kind of agony. And yet, it’s still never enough.”

“There are others like you?”

“I don’t know anymore.” I take a deep breath and wince at his touch. “Used to be. I may be the last.”

He peers down at me, silent, seems to be trying hard to form a question in his mind, but unsure how to ask. “What happens if… if you’re the last one…What happens when you’re, you know, gone?”

“If I’m the last one? When they take the last dark angel from this earth, the world will be in the hands of Lucifer and we’ll see the beginning of the end.”

“The beginning of the end?”

“The apocalypse. Armageddon.”

He’s still for a while. I guess he’s considering what I’ve said. Then, he takes a deep breath. “Sorry. This wound is too deep. I have to get you to a hospital. They’ll need to open you up, find out if they nicked any organs.”

“I can’t.” The pain is unbearable, but I’m resolute.

“If you don’t—”

“Don’t start with me, Rick. First of all, take a look at me. Don’t you think they’ll wonder how I was impaled by a pole no one can find? Second, and most important, if you put me to sleep on the table I’ll dream and I’ll fight, thrashing around until they can’t do a thing.”

He thinks for a second before answering again. “They can paralyze your muscles so you won’t move during surgery.”

“You do that and I won’t be able to fight the demon in my sleep either. I’ll die on the operating table and the agony I’ll endure when I do will be much worse.”

“What do we do? If you have internal injuries, you could bleed to death.”

“Pray. I’d rather die from internal injuries than at the hands of a serial killer with a sick sense of entertainment.”

He shakes his head and sighs again before turning to my wounds.

“Can you stitch me up?”

“I can try, but this’ll take a long time and you’ll be in a lot of pain.”

“Then, unless you’ve given up on me, you should probably get started.”

“I have sutures in my bag, some Lidocaine…” He hesitates, staring in his black med bag. “I’ll need more gauze.”

“What you have will work.” A sharp pain causes me to gasp.

“You’re bleeding too heavily. I need something to blot the blood while I’m sewing.”

“Clean towels. Bathroom cabinet,” I answer between quick, short breaths.

Rising hesitantly to his feet, Rick leaves the room and returns with an armful of towels. After cleaning the skin around the damaged section with some liquid solution I’ve never smelled before, he lays four of the smaller towels in a square around the wound in my abdomen.

“The Lidocaine has epinephrine. It’ll slow the bleeding, help me see what I’m doing.” Pulling out a syringe, he fills it with the anesthetic. When he pierces my torn flesh, it feels like a dull knife tearing my skin. My head grows light and my sight turns dark again.

“Don’t leave me now, Jaime.” His fingers pat my hand and then my cheek. “I need you to stay awake.”

“I’m here.” My eyes flutter, but I can’t open them completely.

“Do you have family that lives nearby?”

I shake my head.

“Parents, anyone who can watch over you?”

With my eyes closed, I shake my head again.

His voice sounds so far away. My mind wants me to sleep. “Keep talking to me, Jaime.”

When I open my eyes again, I search the room, making sure I’m not dreaming. I take a deep breath to answer him. “Gone.”

“Gone where, Jaime?” He pats my hand again. “Where are your parents, Jaime?”

“Died. Both.”

He’s quiet for a moment, contemplating, I suppose. “Were they…Did they also fight, like you?”

Unable to speak for a moment, I nod instead and lick my lips, wanting water so badly. Somehow, I’m able to find my voice. “They’re with Him now.”

I can tell he understands as he returns to closing my wound. “What do you remember about it? Heaven.”

“We don’t call it heaven; we call it the pre-existence.” By keeping me talking, Rick has helped keep me from falling into a deep sleep, making me more alert. I’m thankful one of us knows what they’re doing.

“The pre-existence, then, what was it like?”

“Amazing. Indescribable. Think of the most beautiful color you’ve ever seen and imagine its brilliance even more enhanced.” I try to think of another example, but my mind isn’t completely clear yet. “Remember…hmm…the best feeling you can recall, deep love, greatest accomplishment…then imagine that feeling magnified by one hundred. You feel…pure love, confidence as if you’ve never been hurt. That’s what the pre-existence was like for me.”

“Huh.” He ponders quietly for a while before speaking again. “I have a question.” He pulls a stitch tight and ties it off to snip the ends. I can feel the tug on my skin, but the pain is much less now. “If He loves us so much then how can he allow such evil to happen to us?”

“He doesn’t really allow it. People on earth invite it.” Rick shakes his head like he doesn’t comprehend so I try to think of a way to explain it more clearly. I’ve come to trust him enough to share the past he’s forgotten. “You know there was the big battle in heaven, right?”

He cocks his head, staring back at me. “Never heard that.”

“It was big. Huge. Lucifer, you know, Satan, wanted control, wanted to force us all to be alike when we came down to earth. His plan was to force us to be good. There would be no challenge, no danger, no pain, no hate and no free will. But we’d all make it to heaven when we died.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” he replies, pulling another stitch.

“I guess…if you want someone else making decisions for you. You wouldn’t learn from your mistakes. No way to find out for yourself why you’re directed to do it one way instead of another. We wouldn’t know what it was like to really live, make choices. Everyone would be perfect, at least Lucifer’s idea of perfect, and there would be no reason to come down here. With such stringent constraints we wouldn’t know what excellence was.”

Another sharp pain from Rick’s needle makes me flinch. I bite the inside of my cheek. I release the breath I’ve been holding and he stops stitching for a moment and caresses my hand. I nod to him and he continues stitching.

“Okay. So, Lucifer wanted to be the jerk boss of the earth. Is that what you’re telling me? So what’s new?”

“And… he wanted to be seated at God’s throne so we’d worship him instead. That was really his plan.”

“Ah, Lucifer didn’t just want to be boss of the earth, he wanted to be a celebrity amongst the Gods. Kind of like those, what do they call them, reality TV stars?” he asks and I smile at his over simplified reference and nod. “And that wouldn’t fly?”

I chuckle then flinch again, cautious not to strain the muscles in my abdomen. “No. It wouldn’t fly. There were some who wanted the same as Lucifer, but most didn’t. No one who has a body on this planet wanted his plan. You didn’t. But, so many have forgotten what they fought for and want more than they agreed to. Their unwillingness to love and take care of each other causes Lucifer to become stronger. People full of pride, greed, hatefulness, each negative thought invites him into our world and builds him up.”

He looks up at me, his eyes deep with questions. “Did…you know me back then?” Smiling at his innocence, I nod my answer in the affirmative. He smiles back, his blue eyes sparkling. “So what happened? In this battle?”

“It was enormous. Greater than all the wars this planet has had put together. The pre-existence was on fire. We fought side by side, you know. You were always there. Do you remember?”

His eyes go distant as he searches his memory. “Yeah…I think I actually do remember. I can’t believe I… had forgotten. It’s becoming so clear, now. Did you know that when we first met, I mean on earth, that is, that I was, you know…did you recognize me back then?”

“No. Not at first. I knew we had met, but I wasn’t sure when or where. The more I thought about it, I realized it was you. I was convinced before I took the leap and showed you the video yesterday. When I realized who you were, I knew I could trust you.”

“How is it that I never even considered it before, but the memory is becoming clearer to me now?”

“When you tell people about the battle they always seem to recall that one event in the pre-existence. Only that one, though. Guess it was a great enough moment God couldn’t hide it from us.”

“Lucifer was cast out, right?”

“Mm hmm. By the dark angels, archangels. I was always beside the archangel Michael. We cast him out together, you know. You were there, too.”

“I remember now. You were one of them. You and Michael were almost always together, leading us into battle. I can…I can see it. You were like generals.”

“And you were my captain.”

“You played such an important role in heaven…I mean, pre-existence. How could they demean you with the title dark angel?”

“Dark angel isn’t demeaning. It’s what I am. When Lucifer came to earth there was no one here to protect anyone. That’s where we come in. Other angels are there for comfort or to fulfill peaceful missions, clean and pure souls. Our role isn’t peaceful and there’s no comfort. There’s nothing clean or pure about what we do. Mostly, there’s pain, but it’s necessary. You need someone who’s willing to get the dirty jobs done. I always think about what I do in those terms.”

He’s quiet for a while as he stitches. Then, he speaks again without looking up at me. “Do you know all the dark angels?”

“Not all of them. I was pretty busy.”

He clears his throat and grows quiet again.

I see the realization weighing more heavily on him, now. Yesterday, I was some nutty girl who thought she was a warrior. Today, he has the life of his commander in his hands.

Suddenly, he shakes his head in disgust. “This is my fault. If I’d listened to you in the first place I…I wouldn’t have shown up in your dream. You’d have killed that awful man and been safe in bed before this happened to you.”

“Guilt won’t heal me. I need you to be strong. Whatever happened last night would’ve probably happened anyway.”

“I distracted you.”

“You understand me more, now, so it was a good thing. Let’s move on.”

He’s speechless for a while. I wonder what he’s thinking and allow him time to find the words. Soon enough, he does. “Why do you hunt in your dreams? Why not allow the police to handle this? After all, they are murderers.”

“First, and most important, I made the deal before I was born. I agreed to come here and do this. I consider it a privilege.”

I’m taken aback at the sparkle in his eyes as he watches me intently and it causes me to hesitate for a moment, studying his expression. I wonder what could be going through his mind. Is he remembering how close we were? Was telling him about his past a mistake I’ll regret?

Shaking the thought from my mind, I continue on. “Second, if we let these demons kill as they wish…what if the one they choose was meant to cure Small Pox, or AIDS? We can’t protect everyone, but we do what we can. For this purpose alone, it’s worth having a hit squad from heaven. Most demons start out killing in their sleep. They’re murderers all the same. The ones they meet in their dreams still die. Their heart is no different. As I told you yesterday, there’s no waking evidence of their crime. They can go on killing without retribution. Eventually, they’ll murder in the light as well. They always do. That’s why we’re sent here. To help more of humanity fulfill their destinies, keep Lucifer from getting all the good ones out of his way. I may hate having to do it, but I understand the reason why. Someday, I hope to stand next to God, to his left side where all the archangels gather…I hope…I want to know I did my best while here on earth.”

He digests what I’ve said, taking a deep breath. “What about the ones who murder during the day? Can’t you leave those to the police?”

“If they murder in the day, they’ll always murder in their sleep. There’s no way for anyone but a dark angel to stop a nocturnal kill. And if there’s no murder weapon, there’s no evidence of their crime, no way to bring them to justice.”

“Sometimes the murder weapon is left behind.” He glances at the blue tie on my bed.

I note the glistening blue fabric on the pillow beside me, unwilling to touch it again. “Yeah…Sometimes things aren’t what they’re supposed to be.”

“How is that possible? The necktie, here, in your room, I mean.”

“I have my suspicions, but I’m not exactly sure.” I think about it for a minute, knowing he’s waiting for me to explain. “A demon from my past.”

“One you’ve already killed?”

I close my eyes and nod affirmatively.

“They can come back to life?”

“Sure hope not.” After confronting Collin Leary or someone who looks a lot like him, in a dream, only to find him alive the following day, I’m not so sure any more about anything I thought I knew.

Now all I can think about is last night. The battle with the giant. The ambush at the stream. There were two. Were they gang members? Thinking of the thirteen-year-old I’d tossed in the pond, I know it couldn’t be him. He was shorter than me.

Is it possible Collin Leary was one of them? He knows where I live, now. If he’s the one attacking me in my sleep, he doesn’t seem to want me dead. At least not yet. He could’ve finished me off already. Instead, he’s playing with me, as if he wants me to suffer, but why? And how did he know about my father’s murderer and the necktie killer? If he’s the one who’s been following me in my dreams since that day, does he know what happened to me that night long ago; about the one who held my wrists to assist my attackers when I was only a teenager? Whoever this is, they seem to know what frightens me, insistent on using it against me. For what purpose?

Suddenly, Rick stops pulling the needle through my flesh and lets out a deep breath. “Jaime,” he seems frustrated, “your muscles are torn beneath. They did some real damage this time.”

“Can you sew me up?”

“Not easily.” He stares me in the eyes. “You have to stop hunting until you’re better.”

“Not possible.”

“You’re stubborn.”

“Yes. But that has nothing to do with this. I hunt the minute I fall asleep. If I don’t, they’ll hunt me and kill me before I wake.”

Frustration creases his face while he thinks. “You won’t live to see thirty this way.”

I laugh and then wince.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Heh, I’m seventy.”

“That’s not…that’s not possible.”

“Not bad for an old lady?”

He’s speechless, shaking his head. He turns back to working on stitching me up. “I need to start working out.”

I chuckle and wince again, unable to stop laughing through the pain. “Stop. That hurts.”

“Then stop laughing at me,” he teases and smiles warmly. The respect shows in his blue eyes. “I’m serious, if I want to keep up with you I’ll need to start working out, for real.”

“Yeah. You might think about doing it for yourself, too.” He rolls his eyes at me while tugging on another stitch. “Can’t promise you’ll look like you’re in your twenties, though.”

“Funny. You’re such a funny girl, lying here with half your stomach stitched up.”

“Frankenstein’s bride?”

“Almost.” He’s silent for a moment. Then, he takes a deep breath. “Jaime, what are you hoping for? What do you want from this life?”

I’ve never had anyone ask me this before. I had to think hard, really look inside my soul to answer his question. Is it appropriate to tell him that most of the time I just want to die?

“I don’t think I want anything from this life except to leave when I’m done. Problem is, when that day comes I’m afraid there’ll be no place for someone like me, at least not in heaven, not anymore. I don’t really feel like there’s a place for me anywhere, not here or there.”

“Haven’t you tried to ask God if you’re worthy to go back? You still talk to Him, don’t you?”

“Oh, no, He hasn’t spoken to me since I left.”

“Why? You were one of His generals, a favored warrior one would think.”

“I don’t know. I want to think He broke contact so I wouldn’t desire to return more than I already do. Sometimes, I wonder if it’s because I don’t deserve His presence or if He has better things to do than worry about an angel like me.”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Keep this up and you may have that conversation anyway, real soon.”

He’s right. “Until I figure out who’s blindsiding me, or how to find them before they find me, this’ll keep happening.”

“Until they kill you.”

“Until they kill me.”

Rick is silent for a long time. Thinking, I suppose. Not sure what’s on his mind. I know it has to do with me and everything I’ve told him today. He has a lot to think about. I won’t tell him I have a date tonight. He wouldn’t approve. Considering what happened last night, I’d rather go and stay out all night. I can’t help being apprehensive about going to sleep. Besides, I’ll heal a little more before I have to fight again, if I can have more time.

“I don’t think I’ve ever sewn so many stitches. There’s at least sixty, Jaime. Your new personal best.” He wraps the syringe, the needle and half-empty Lidocaine bottle in plastic and shoves them into his bag. “You need to rest. No dancing tonight, okay?” He grabs my arm and shakes it, attempting a smile. “You’ll start bleeding if you’re not careful so stay in bed as much as possible, nothing to raise your blood pressure.”

He shakes his head again. He’s done it so many times since he’s been in my house, I wonder if he has a headache by now. “Hate to leave you, almost wish I could stay here with you. When you sleep tonight you’ll probably end up tearing them out with all the thrashing and kicking. Keep the brace on your ribs, okay? It’ll help your bandages stay put when you fight.”

He’s struggling with his thoughts, guilt painting his expression. There’s nothing I can say to relieve his mind. Obviously, he worries he’ll walk in tomorrow and I won’t be breathing. I wonder the same.

Without looking up at me, he places all of the medical supplies in his bag. Seems like he can’t look me in the eyes, either.

“Rick?” He stops, but doesn’t turn to face me. “In my kitchen, there’s a key holder. The only one hanging there is a spare. Front door. You can take it.”

He nods and heads for the bedroom door. As he reaches for the knob, he wavers, speaking without turning. “Every night you’re saving us from evil that stalks us in our dreams.” His back is to me, he still faces the door. “Even though in so doing, you’ll probably die a violent death.” He takes a deep breath, hovering on the words he wants to say. “Where’s your angel?” he whispers.

“God sent you.”

Releasing the air from his lungs, his shoulders slump and he opens the door. “I’ll check on you in the morning.”

“Thanks.” As I lie in my bed, I hope he won’t know the pain of finding my bloody corpse tomorrow. I can say from experience, the effect on your soul is devastating.